Champagne's For Celebrating 1?
by PositivelyUncertain
Summary: An AU fic I wrote months ago, which I've now got enough motivation to carry on :P
1. Chapter 1

Title: Champagne's for celebrating (1/?)

Rating: PG- 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, or anything of any real value. Epic life fail :) Title is taken from the Mayday Parade song of the same name.

Summary: My first A/U fic. Read on :P

A/N: I have no idea where this came from, and it most likely sucks and contains spelling mistakes and fail of epic proportions, which can be blamed entirely on Fosters and the fact that it is un-beta'd.

Five nights in a row. Emily curses herself for noticing. Just like she curses herself for noticing the way the blonde occasionally sweeps loose strands of hair away from her eyes, or her eccentric dress sense, or the way she rolls her eyes every so often as though just being in the same room as other human beings is such a chore. But Emily does notice. Is drawn to her in a way which she can only describe as pathetic. Has been watching her covertly (_God, she hopes it's covertly_) ever since she arrived less than three hours ago.

''Same again.'' The blonde doesn't bother to make eye-contact. Can barely even be bothered to coherently mumble the words in Emily's direction as she fumbles clumsily in her pocket for a tenner. Another tenner, Emily notices, despite the fact she must have more than enough change to buy another drink since she paid for her last one with a twenty and the till was, as usual, out of notes. Why the fuck has she noticed this?

''Yeah. Sure..'' Emily resists the temptation to come out with something ridiculously cliche like _''I think you've had enough'' _or, even worse, ''_What's a girl like you doing in a place like this_?'' They're both perfectly valid statements, Emily thinks. (Because, honestly, Emily has a sneaking suspicion that the blonde had consumed more than enough before she even left the house, and genuinely can't comprehend why someone as strikingly captivating would choose to spend her time in a run-down, dimly lit bar.) She holds her tongue, however, and instead pours her yet another pint, makes a futile attempt to make eye contact with the girl she's been completely incapable of taking her eyes off since she first walked into the bar just over two weeks ago.

She's alone most of the time, Emily's noticed. Doesn't seem to mind as much as she should and barely bothers to observe her surroundings, instead choosing to fumble in her jacket pocket to retrieve her iPod. Emily wonders what she's listening to, can't quite judge simply from the blonde's demeanor exactly what her favourite music might be. Isn't entirely sure why she actually cares. But she does. Thinks that her playlist most likely consists of some eclectic bands who she hasn't even heard of. Hands the blonde her change back shakily and tries not to notice the way her fingertips graze her hand lightly. _Pathetic_, she thinks, as she watches her return to the seat.

Half an hour passes, and Emily chooses to divide her time (almost) equally between apathetically serving customers and all too enthusiastically observing the blonde, who barely even bothers to shift in her seat aside from making her way outside to smoke. _(Customers aren't allowed to take glasses outside, Emily barely reminds herself. Doesn't have the courage to go and remind the blonde of this ridiculous rule. Finds herself not even wanting to remind her_.)

''Em, we're closing, yeah? Like, _hurry up_.'' Emily rolls her eyes, barely managing to hide her annoyance from her twin and nodding mechanically. And that's exactly what she feels like most of the time. A machine. She functions, of course. She has to. Anything beyond that seems like some sort of unreachable goal, an existence which, for unknown reasons, she is simply not meant to experience. Instead, she watches Katie experience it. Hates her for it on occasion. Hates herself for hating her.

Emily makes her way over to the girl, her step faltering as she approaches. Has no idea why she's nervous, really, as she pauses in front of her, clears her throat quietly, almost as though she's embarrassed simply by existing. Perhaps she is, she thinks. Perhaps she should be.

''Yes?'' The blonde looks up expectantly, as though Emily's mere existence is intensely irritating. It probably is, Emily realises. Usually is. Feels incomprehensibly apologetic for making such a clumsy intrusion into someone's personal space. Into her personal space.

''Erm..We're closing..'' She barely manages to blurt out, idly playing with the fabric of her t-shirt. Hates herself for being so fucking tragic.

''Yeah, kinda gathered that from the incessant ringing, y'know?'' The blonde rolls her eyes and gestures towards the bell behind the bar. The one which Emily dreads ringing because it draws attention to her and, perhaps irrationally, makes her feel as though every single person in the room has suddenly diverted their attention to her. She hates it. Hates this job, in fact. Only took it because she's on a gap year (_or at least tells herself she's on a gap year and that there's at least some small hope that she could actually go to uni and possibly even have a future beyond dingy clubs and yet more pills_) and also because, according to Katie, being a barmaid is the perfect opportunity to, like, _pull fit guys, yeah_? And everyone wants to pull fit guys, or so Emily reminds herself every five fucking minutes. Can even, on occasion, manage to flash a half-hearted, flirty smile in the direction of some neanderthal, beer swilling bloke, even if it's only to glance across the bar and receive an approving grin from Katie.

''So...?'' Emily shakes herself out of her daze at the sound of the voice, realises that she's probably been standing gormlessly in front of the blonde for several moments and must, she thinks, look like a complete socially retarded tosser. Wonders briefly how the hell her and Katie could possibly be related and silently curses her twin for being first in line when God gave out self confidence. Wonders where the fuck she was when all this was happening.

''Erm...just wanted to let you know, y'know?'' She mentally slaps herself for sounding so fucking pathetic, because, _Christ_, she spends most of her fucking life (or so it feels) telling drunken idiots that they're closing and never feels in the slightest bit intimidated. Wonders why this time should be any different. But, somehow, it is.

''Right, well... thanks.'' The blonde gazes pointedly at Emily with an expression which can only be interpreted as ''_you can go now_.'' Except perhaps not quite as polite. And she does go. Scurries back into the pub and attempts to ignore the glare she receives from Katie, because, apparently, they're going out after this. Doesn't bother to point out that maybe they'd get finished a hell of a lot quicker if Katie could detach herself from her fucking phone for more than a minute at a time and actually, y'know,_ help_.

Instead, she distracts herself by cleaning glasses, or pretending to anyway, until Katie's glares become too venomous for her to take and she's forced to once again make her way over to the girl, who's now returned to her seat. Makes a futile attempt to be nonchalant, doesn't even glance at the blonde as she collects her empty pint glass from the table. Had she been Katie, this would have worked effortlessly. But she isn't, of course. Is reminded of this fact every fucking minute of every apathetic day. So instead, because she's Emily fucking Fitch, and not Katie, she reaches for the glass, completely fucks up her timing and consequently causes it to topple over. Watches it as it rolls across the table towards the blonde. Curses herself.

''Fucking Idiot.'' Emily doesn't even realise she's verbalised this thought, far too busy clumsily attempting to retrieve the offending pint glass from the table and trying not to die of embarrassment, until she glances up and notices the blonde glaring at her.

''Excuse me?'' Her tone of voice displays her irritation, and Emily momentarily panics, attempting to come up with a coherent response which doesn't make her look even more socially inept than she is. (It shouldn't really be possible, she thinks.) There's silence for a few moments before she finally finds her voice. It comes out weaker than she expected, even for her.

''No, not you. I was, erm...talking to myself.'' _Great_, Emily thinks. _Fucking great. Now I can add crazy to my ever increasing list of endearing qualities. I should get a fucking notebook or something._

''Right.'' The blonde raises an eyebrow, looking the perfect mixture of pissed off and arrogantly amused, which, for some reason, Emily finds incredibly attractive. ''That's supposed to be the first sign of madness, y'know.'' She smirks then, and Emily can't quite decide whether there's any malice behind it, or if it's simply playful. Decides to take a chance on the latter.

''Yeah? What's the second then?'' Emily surprises herself by managing to get through a whole (albeit short) sentence without making a complete and utter twat of herself. Katie would be proud, she thinks, had circumstances been different.

''Talking to me.'' And with that, the blonde picks up her bag from the seat beside her, flashes Emily yet another smirk before leaving the pub without so much as a second glance..


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Champagne's for celebrating (2/?)

Rating: PG- 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, or anything of any real value. Epic life fail :) Title is taken from the Mayday Parade song of the same name.

Summary: My first A/U fic. Read on :P

A/N: Kinda short and rather rubbish. Next chapter shall be longer and significantly more interesting. Hopefully :)

It's been three days since her interaction with the blonde, and Emily has spent each and every one of them feigning some sort of mild interest in her day-to-day life. Pretending wearily that it isn't defined by apathy or, even worse, a silent yet crippling hatred towards her mere existence. She's been working overtime, willingly spending every possible moment in the dingy bar simply so she doesn't have to be at home. Has looked out for the blonde every night to no avail. Begins to think that she'll never see her again, and isn't quite sure why this thought bothers her so much. Instead, tries to brighten her mood by reminding herself that Katie isn't working tonight.

Emily feels a rush of relief when, 30 minutes into her shift, she spots a flash of peroxide blonde hair. Her hair is tousled, her eyes accentuated by rose coloured rims as though she's been crying, or hasn't slept properly in several days. Perhaps a heartbreaking combination of the two, Emily thinks. Has to bite her tongue to prevent herself from asking the cliched question of _''Are you okay?'' _as the blonde approaches the bar, vaguely acknowledges Emily's presence with a slight nod of the head and a quirk of the lips. Mumbles ''Usual'' under her breath as Emily desperately tries to think of a way to strike up some sort of conversation.

She's interrupted, however, by some complete drunken twat stumbling over to the bar. (_Emily's seen him before. Distinctly recalls thinking ''What a complete and utter wanker'' last time she saw him._) He orders a pint from a barmaid whose name Emily can't quite remember (hasn't even bothered to learn), before turning to the blonde with a shit-eating grin on his face.

''Alright, Naomi? On your own again, eh? Well, if you ever decide to take me up on that offer, you know where I am, yeah?'' He winks smugly, reaches out clumsily to wrap an arm tight around the blonde's shoulder. She shrugs it off forcefully, narrows her eyes at him and Emily thinks the expression_ If looks could kill_... has never been so relevant as it is in this very moment. Isn't entirely sure whether to be utterly amused or to expect a full on bar fight.

''Right. Well. Thanks. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather cut off my own_ fucking arm _and beat myself to death with it.'' She smiles sweetly, eyes fixed pointedly on the guy as though she's silently ordering him to fuck off. She probably is, Emily reckons. Can't help but smile slightly to herself as the blonde rolls her eyes dramatically and mutters ''tosser'' to no-one in particular. Thinks that it's utterly _adorable_, in a hostile, confrontational sort of way. The guy simply laughs loudly, seems to find some sort of sadistic amusement in the blonde's irritation.

''Nice one, blondie!'' He pats her roughly on the back and Emily sees her teeth clench as she pays for her drink. Finds herself being irrationally jealous of the guy simply for knowing the blonde.

_Naomi_. Emily smiles to herself as she watches her walk away. Thinks_ pretty name _before mentally slapping herself because, honestly, people only ever say that in ridiculous T.V shows. And this is reality, she's rather disheartened to note. Still can't quite stop herself from smiling at being unwittingly saved from yet another night of monotony by a certain striking blonde. Ignores the voice in her head telling her how tragic she is.

The same voice reappears relentlessly throughout the night as Emily finds her gaze glued to the blonde, observing each silent sigh, each roll of the eyes, each sip of her drink. Waits tragically for Naomi to finish her drink just so she has some vague excuse to go over. Mentally congratulates herself when, half an hour or so later, she manages to collect the empty glass without horribly embarrassing herself. Accidentally catches Naomi's eye as she does so and decides that this slight, subtle interaction is the perfect justification for words. Nods slightly towards the wanker from before, who is currently standing shakily on one of the ancient chairs, downing an entire pint as his equally wankerish friends egg him on.

''Friend of yours?'' It's a ridiculous question really, since they are clearly anything but friends. But Emily's far too preoccupied with her fascination to completely comprehend such trivialities. Probably wouldn't even care if she did. Instead, she waits nervously for a split second until the blonde breaks the silence.

''I don't_ do _friends. Incase you hadn't noticed, people are self absorbed cunts.'' Naomi rolls her eyes as though she's pointing out the most obvious fucking thing in the world. It takes Emily only a split second and a lingering thought about her twin to realise that, in fact, Naomi actually_ is _pointing out the most obvious fucking thing in the world. Should probably stop her futile attempt to converse with Naomi, who clearly didn't graduate from charm school, if she even bothered to attend in the first place. Still can't help herself from replying.

''Yeah, I guess. Not everyone though.'' Her lie is strikingly apparent, even to herself, and she hears the blonde scoff slightly. Doesn't dare glance up. Instead finds herself suddenly fascinated with the worn carpet beneath her.

''No. _Everyone_. Some people are just better at hiding it than others.'' Naomi's so utterly adamant and convinced that Emily can't help but to admire her, even in the midst of her alienating cynicism.

''What about you?'' The words spill out defiantly before she has the chance to catch them, but this time Emily doesn't even bother to mask her intrigue. Drags her gaze from the floor and makes steady, unashamed eye contact with another human being for the first time since she was around 13 years old. Watches the blonde far too intently as she gnaws lightly on her lower lip.

''I don't hide it.'' It's said with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders and a smile which is probably intended to be sarcastic but, Emily notices, displays the slightest hint of sadness. Wants to somehow erase it, or at least uncover the underlying cause. Thinks that perhaps this may not be as easy as it seems. Still isn't entirely sure why she cares so much about someone she's barely even said three sentences to. _Does anyway._


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Champagne's for celebrating (3/?)

Rating: PG- 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, or anything of any real value. Epic life fail :) Title is taken from the Mayday Parade song of the same name.

Summary: My first A/U fic. Read on :P

_For God's sake Emily, stop fucking staring at her_. Emily's been mentally slapping herself for the past few hours, has found her gaze continually drawn back to the blonde no matter how hard she tries to resist the temptation. Occasionally, Naomi catches her looking and Emily has to quickly avert her eyes, awkwardly looking anywhere but in the blonde's direction. She shouldn't bother really, she thinks. Knows it's probably blatantly obvious to Naomi that she's been staring and that her many attempts at subtlety are only serving to make her look like even more of a loser. Sighs to herself and wonders why she had to be her and not someone else. Thinks her social stupidity can't possibly be genetic since her and Katie are so...completely different. Isn't entirely sure why she even bothers entertaining such pointless thoughts since she learned a long time ago that thinking and wishing never amount to anything.

Naomi's demeanor has changed drastically throughout the night, Emily notices. The trademark scowl is still strikingly apparent, but somehow, in a way which Emily can't quite decipher, the blonde seems less...hostile. More approachable. _Probably the drink_, she thinks to herself. Goes back to serving a seemingly endless flow of customers and even manages to fake a smile every so often.

''Got a bit of a thing for blondie, eh?'' Emily's interrupted from her latest staring session (_much to her intense irritation_) by the reappearance of the wanker from before, smirking arrogantly at her from the other side of the bar.

''What? No. Why would...'' Emily feels her face burn. Is torn between wanting the ground to open and swallow her up, or throwing a pint in his face. Decides that, however appealing both options may be, neither is particularly practical. Settles to adopting an expression of confusion and innocence and prays more than anything that it's at least somewhat believable.

''You've been staring at her all night. I ain't as stupid as I look, babe. Now, more beer, yeah?'' He slams his fist onto the bar and offers yet another shit eating grin, along with a crumpled, torn tenner. Emily's mortified. Wonders if she's really been that fucking obvious, if she looks as tragically desperate and lonely as she feels on the inside. Busies herself pouring him a pint before her mind has the chance to chastise her for being so fucking stupid.

''Hey, Red? Red!'' Emily looks up, wonders if this idiot addresses everyone he encounters in terms of their hair colour. Looks at him in irritation. ''I reckon you've got a chance there.'' He nods briefly towards Naomi before continuing. ''Rumour has it, she bats for your team. Just make sure you film it for me, yeah? Could do with some new material for the wank bank.'' He laughs loudly, picks up the pint which Emily had reluctantly poured for him and swaggers back over to his friends._ Tosser_, Emily thinks to herself. Would have come up with several more derogatory words to call him had she not been far too preoccupied with processing his speculation.

A few minutes before closing, Emily once again makes her way over to Naomi's table to collect yet another empty glass. _Christ, that girl can drink_. Tries to appear nonchalant as she pauses in front of the blonde, catches her eye momentarily as her hand finds the glass, and is pleasantly surprised to see a slight, subtle smile spread across her face. Uses it as an excuse to initiate yet another conversation.

''So...How do you know him?'' She nods in the direction of the guy from the bar, letting her curiosity get the better of her once more. Feels her confidence grow slightly upon seeing the lack of irritation upon Naomi's face.

''Used to go to my college. Along with several hundred other not-quite-evolved idiots. It was like a fucking zoo with textbooks.'' She smirks as Emily lets out a quiet giggle. Thinks that perhaps the blonde has more of a sense of humour than one would realise at first glance, might not be as anti-social as people may think. Either that or she's just had so much to drink that she's able to tolerate Emily's irritating questions.

''You live round here then?'' It's none of her business, she knows. Can't quite help herself.

''Know the hostel down the street?'' Naomi rolls her eyes, lets out an exasperated sigh as though the mere thought of it is both physically and emotionally draining. Doesn't bother looking up to see if any sort of recognition is displayed across Emily's face. Simply continues. ''I live there. Some sort of communal living shit my mum came up with. Reckons it instills some sort of group spirit and teaches people to be more tolerant of each other. Bollocks.''

''Don't enjoy living there then?'' Emily flashes her a lingering, sympathetic smile before going back to playing absentmindedly with the empty glass in her hand and trying to ignore the nervous knot in her stomach.

''Would you enjoy living with a bunch of hippies who constantly steal all your food? One of them thinks he's the messiah. _Actually thinks he's the fucking messiah_. Christ, it's like living in a bloody mental institution.'' Emily can't help but to let out a slight laugh at Naomi's drunken rant. She's fucking adorable when she's angry, Emily thinks.

''What?'' Naomi doesn't seem to see the funny side, narrows her eyes momentarily as she clenches her teeth and looks away in annoyance.

''No, I didn't mean...I'm sorry, it's just...you're funny. The way you say things, I mean. I mean...'' _Shut up. Just. _. Emily's gaze finds the floor again and she wonders why she even attempts the art of socialising. Thinks she should have given up years ago to save herself from endless embarrassment and seemingly unstoppable rambling. She's about to do just that, in fact. About to walk away when Naomi speaks again.

''Right. Thanks, I think. I've been called worse, I guess.'' Naomi shrugs, smiles slightly, and Emily's pretty sure it's the most wonderful thing she's ever seen. Tries not to stare too intently, tries to stop herself from smiling back. Tries and fails.

''Does your dad live with you too?'' Emily realises as soon as the words leave her mouth that she's fucked up spectacularly. Can tell from the way Naomi's smile falters and the way she shifts uncomfortably in her seat that she's said completely the wrong thing. _As fucking usual_. Should probably stop asking the blonde such stupid fucking questions.

''No. He doesn't.'' There's an awkward silence, and a look of sadness flashes across the blonde's face until she once again adopts her sarcastic exterior. ''Just as well really. He's a right cunt.'' Naomi laughs, but Emily has a sneaking suspicion that it's more bitter than amused. ''Anyway,'' the blonde suddenly stands up ''See you later, yeah?''

''Are you...going to be back tomorrow night?'' There's probably more than a hint of desperation in her voice, she realises. Isn't entirely sure if she cares.

''Might be. Depends if the hippies have drank the last of my vodka or not.'' Naomi laughs, genuinely this time. Disappears through the door without a second glance. Emily grins. Immediately produces her phone from her pocket and texts Katie to say she'll cover her shift tomorrow night. Just in case. Smiles to herself and thinks that perhaps her mundane, tragic existence just became slightly more bearable.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Champagne's for celebrating (4/?)

Rating: PG- 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, or anything except for an inferiority complex and a cat which isn't even mine, but turns up every day for food haha. Epic life fail :) Title is taken from the Mayday Parade song of the same name.

Summary: My first A/U fic. Read on :P

A/N: Another short one I'm afraid. And not exactly my best work since I'm not really used to writing lots of dialogue. But yes, I hope it isn't too much of a let down. Anyway, if you're reading and enjoying then please take the time to review. It may even inspire me to complete the next chapter :P

It's 20:57 when Emily glances at her watch for the umpteenth time that night. It's pathetic really, when she thinks about it. Doesn't actually need to think all that hard or eloquently to realise that glancing at her watch every 5 fucking minutes since she started her shift several hours ago is indescribably ridiculous. Mentally slaps herself for the millionth time in a week and thinks that perhaps her mind should have a fucking ASBO or something.

She's about to completely give up in fact, when it gets to half nine and there's still no sign of Naomi. Feels completely disheartened and actually rather embarrassed that she's somehow managed to become so attached to someone she knows absolutely nothing about. So fucking attached that she willingly came in to work at a job she hates at the best of times, just because Naomi might, _might_ show up.

Less than half an hour (and two Jack Daniels and Cokes) later, just as Emily is about to feign illness so her boss will allow her to leave early and she can continue feeling utterly sorry for herself in the comfort of her own room, the door opens and Naomi casually strolls in. The first thing Emily notices (_after her rapid increase in heartbeat_) is the fact that Naomi's faded jeans appear to be at least two sizes too small. The second thing she notices is that Naomi's jacket bears a striking resemblance to the tacky curtains in her gran's living room (_the ones which look like they've been there since the 50's and should have been thrown out long ago for the sake of fashion_.) Thirdly, Emily notices that it shouldn't be possible for someone to look so fucking effortlessly amazing whilst wearing said curtain-jacket. _Katie would have a fucking field day if she saw it_, she thinks to herself.

Emily's expecting some sort of smile, a vague look of recognition or acknowledgment at the very least, given their fleeting conversation the previous night. Can't help the way her stomach drops as Naomi completely ignores her presence and instead saunters across to the opposite end of the bar, orders her usual pint as though Emily doesn't even exist. _(Emily wishes she didn't right now. Wonders if she did something wrong, or if the blonde just suffers from ridiculously anti-social mood swings.)_

She watches as Naomi finds a seat and slumps down into it, pint in hand and headphones in. Finds her feet subconsciously carrying her over towards the blonde and hears the vague thud of music blasting out from Naomi's headphones as she waits for her to notice that Emily's standing right in front of her. Catches her eye before speaking.

''What you listening to?'' Emily attempts to sound casual. Apathetically cool, even, despite the scowl which is displayed across Naomi's face so very prominently as she pulls the headphones out of her ears with a dramatic sigh. _Christ, this girl is confusing._

''Music, surprisingly.'' Naomi looks intensely irritated by Emily's intrusion. Doesn't even bother to conceal it.

''Yeah, I kinda gathered that actually. Not as stupid as I look, y'know?'' Emily's assertive outburst is brought about by a mixture of intense irritation and mild amusement (_or possibly the fact that she's been covertly downing glasses of J.D and coke behind the bar when her boss wasn't looking_) because, really, she's only trying to make bloody conversation and it's completely fucking unnecessary for someone to be so incredibly anti-social and rude (_and manage to be so bloody attractive whilst doing so_.)

''Lucky for you, eh?'' Emily's pretty sure the blonde had every intention of maintaining her bitch-of-the-century exterior. Would have been pretty fucking offended, actually, had she not detected the slightest hint of a smile on Naomi's face, despite her best intentions to shield it behind her hand.

''Oh, charming.'' The words spill out before Emily even has time to process them. Is suddenly panicked that perhaps she sounds far too confrontational. Thinks that such panic is rather irrational given the fact that she's talking to the queen of confrontation herself.

''Wasn't trying to be, actually.'' Naomi shrugs her shoulders apathetically, doesn't bother attempting to mask her smile this time.

''Lucky for you, eh?'' Emily flashes a slight smile of her own as she repeats Naomi's words back to her, can't help the smile from turning into a ridiculous grin as the blonde lets out a slight laugh and offers Emily one of the earphones. Frantically searches her brain for any slight recognition of the song or band as she listens intently. Comes up completely and utterly blank despite her best efforts and wishes. _Typical, she thinks. I couldn't be cool just this fucking once, could I?_

''Haven't got a clue, have you?'' The blonde observes, seemingly taking some sort of pleasure from Emily's complete cluelessness. (_Why shouldn't she? Everyone else does_.)

''None whatsoever. They sound a lot like a local band I know, though.'' She's not lying, really. They do sound vaguely similar. Very, very vaguely, but similar all the same. Or so she tells herself.

''Yeah?'' Naomi doesn't seem in the slightest bit interested, doesn't even bother to make eye contact as she takes another sip of her pint. Emily decides that, _fuck it_, she hasn't really got anything to lose, since the blonde most likely thinks she's a complete twat anyway.

''Yeah. They're, erm, playing at The Magpie tomorrow night actually. You should...come along. If you're not busy, of course. I mean, I know it's a pretty shitty bar and you're probably busy anyway but..'' Emily's relieved when Naomi cuts her off in the middle of her nervous rambling.

''You want _me_ to come along?'' Naomi raises an eyebrow, glances at Emily incredulously, as though she's just sprouted another head.

''Well... I'm going anyway and I just thought maybe you would, I mean, if you wanted to...'' Emily trails off, sighs to herself in the realisation that, if the blonde didn't think she was a complete twat before, she certainly will now. Stupid fucking idiot. There's an awkward silence which lasts far too long for Emily's liking. (_There's only so long someone can gaze blankly at the patterns on the carpet without looking at least noticeably odd_.)

The silence lasts for several moments, or lifetimes in Emily's opinion. She doesn't dare look up, for fear of seeing scorn present in the blonde's eyes. Or worse: Pity. She's seen both those expressions far too many times before to be able to cope with seeing either one again.

''Fine, whatever. Saves me from yet another night stuck at home with the _messiah_ anyway.'' Emily's head snaps up at Naomi's words, and she tries desperately to figure out if the blonde is being serious, or if she's simply humouring her.

''Yeah?'' _Great. Way to sound over-enthusiastic, Emily._

''I guess. Got nothing better to do.'' The blonde's lips curl up into a subtle smile as she produces her mobile from the pocket of her jacket. Fumbles with it for a second before passing it to Emily with her number displayed on the screen. Waits patiently as Emily produces her own phone, saves Naomi's number and tries to be covert about checking it several hundred times before being shaken out of her obsessive compulsive trance by Naomi continuing. ''Text me when you're already there, yeah? I'm not waiting around outside in the cold for you to show up. It's Emily, right?''

''How do you know my name?'' Emily can't recall ever introducing herself to Naomi. Think she would most certainly at least have some slight recollection of doing so, since she's spent 99% of her days lately going over and over each conversation she's had with the blonde. _(It's not pathetic, really. It's just that she's lonely and, well, she doesn't really have any other distractions. Or so she's tried to convince herself. Several times.)_

''You're not the only one who isn't as stupid as they look, y'know. I do pay attention occasionally. When I can be bothered, of course.'' Another smirk. Emily's getting quite addicted to the sight of it, actually.

''Of course.'' Emily laughs, wondering how the hell it's possible for one person to make her feel such a wide range of emotions in such a short space of time. Figures she probably shouldn't over-think it, but has a feeling she will anyway. _Stupid brain._

''Anyway, only came in for a quick pint. Promised the mother I'd be home early so she can feign a mild interest in my life and attempt to spend time with me. See you tomorrow, Emily.'' Naomi nods in her direction as she stands up to leave, doesn't seem to notice the grin which has spread across the redhead's face.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Champagne's for celebrating (5/?)

Rating: PG- 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, just a computer and a bunch of words. Title is taken from the Mayday Parade song of the same name.

A/N: Thanks to Noe for epic proof reading :) It ends slightly abruptly 'cause I'm planning on focusing the next chapter on Naomi and her thoughts on the way back from Emily's. (I haven't started writing it yet, so it may be a while)

Again, comments would really be appreciated :)

16 minutes and counting. That's how long Emily's been stood outside the dingy pub trying to pluck up the courage to text Naomi. (_She's even gone so far as to type out several messages to the blonde, deciding that each and every one sounded so utterly fucking ridiculous that she hastily deleted them with a sigh.) _Picks up her phone once more and decides that, _fuck it, _if she doesn't text Naomi now then she's quite possibly going to be reduced to standing outside this shithole like a twat for the rest of her life.

_Hey, it's Emily from the pub. I'm outside the Magpie now if you're ready? _Emily quickly presses the send button on her phone before she can change her mind yet again. Instantly feels a wave of panic wash over her as soon as she does. (Because, what if it sounds too forward? Or not interested enough? What if Naomi has forgotten all about it and doesn't even remember who the fuck Emily is?) _Fuck sake, _Emily thinks to herself. Why can't it be possible for her to, just this once, not analyse everything to death?

Emily is rather grateful when a bunch of drunken wankers turn up outside the pub. She watches them, thankful that she has at least some minor distraction to occupy her time while she waits for Naomi to text back. (_If she texts back, _Emily thinks to herself with a frown.)

She almost jumps out of her skin, in fact, when several moments later she feels her phone vibrate in the pocket of her jeans. Pauses to take a deep breath before retreiving the offending item and glances at the screen. (_It's probably not even her, _Emily thinks to herself. She's been disappointed far too many times in the past whilst waiting for a text to come. It usually turns out to be her fucking phone company telling her about how much money she can save by switching to a new tariff.) Feels her heart flutter when she sees that the text is indeed from Naomi, and silently prays to whoever is listening that Naomi isn't cancelling on her.

_Be there soon. _Three simple words flash up on Emily's screen. She can't help but smile to herself, despite the simplicity and apathetic nature of the text. _She's coming, _Emily thinks to herself. Can finally relax ever so slightly in the knowlege that she's not going to end up wearily walking home on her own as she's done so many nights before. Diverts her attention back to the drunken wankers infront of her once more, and has to bite her lip in an attempt to stop herself laughing as one of them trips over and sends his pint glass soaring into the air. _Christ, at least I'm not that fucking retarded, _she thinks to herself.

It's almost exactly 7 minutes later (_not that she's been counting the minutes, of course) _when Emily, who has in the meantime perched lightly upon the stone wall outside the pub, spots a flash of bright blonde hair approaching her slowly. Her breath catches in her throat as she takes a closer look and realises that it is, in fact, Naomi. Can't help but smile to herself as one of the drunken wankers from before bumps into the blonde, causing her to temporarily lose her balance. He is, of course, greeted with Naomi's token death stare as she removes her headphones from her ears and eventually reaches Emily.

''Fucking tosser. Didn't even fucking apologise. I mean, if you bump into someone, you should at least have the decency to fucking...'' Naomi stops in the middle of her rant, noticing that Emily is simply staring at her with a smile on her face. ''Sorry'' She continues. ''Hi. People are wankers.'' She finishes with a roll of the eyes.

''Hi. Yeah, they are.'' Emily smiles at the blonde (not too enthusiastically, she hopes.) ''I should know, I serve them at the pub most nights!'' _Right, normal conversation. You can do this, Emily. People do it all the time. Just don't think soo much before you speak. But don't think too little either, because you know you'll end up saying something stupid and...Shut up, she's looking at you._

''I hope you're not including me in that category.'' Naomi raises her eyebrows and Emily can't quite tell whether she's serious or not. Pauses blankly for a few moments whilst she tries to construct a vaguely coherent reply. Ends up rambling her way out of it anyway.

''No, I didn't mean you. Obviously. I mean, I _like_ serving you.'' _Great, Emily. Fucking great. 'Cause that didn't sound stupid at all, did it? Why don't you just throw yourself at her feet right fucking now?_

Thankfully, Naomi tilts her head back and laughs. ''Well, who wouldn't? I think I've probably helped put your boss' kids through uni with the amount I drink there. Your pints are a fucking rip off, by the way'' Naomi lights up a fag then, leans against the wall and flashes Emily her trademark smirk. (_She's been drinking, _Emily notices. _Has that sarcastic yet approachable look on her face which Emily noticed the night before.)_

''Yeah well, I don't decide the prices. I'm just the idiot who pours them'' _Thank God I had some vodka before I left the house, _Emily thinks to herself. She's far less socially retarded whilst slightly under the influence, she's realised. Or at least, she cares slightly less about being socially retarded. (Never quite managed to work out which of the options is true.)

Emily watches as Naomi blows smoke into the air through the corner of her mouth, tilting her head back slightly so that her blonde's hair is illuminated by the dim glow of the street light. _Fucking sexy, _Emily thinks. Feels a sense of elation that Naomi has probably spoken to her more in these past few minutes then she has since she first started coming to the pub.

''You don't think much of yourself, do you?'' The blonde glances at her then, with an expression that Emily can't quite define. _Hopes it's not fucking pity. _Frantically searches for a reply to such a heavy, unexpected statement.

''No, I mean, well...not really. What makes you say that?'' Doesn't dare look up from the floor and shifts uncomfortably on the spot.

''Just an observation.'' Naomi replies. With _that smirk _again. Tosses her cigarette to the side nonchalantly before turning back to the redhead. ''Coming in?''

Emily nods dumbly, follows Naomi through the doors of the pub towards the bar and tries to steady her breathing. 'Cause really, Naomi's just a person like anyone else. (_albeit_ _an incredibly hot person...) _And it shouldn't be _this _hard for Emily to interact with another human being.

Around an hour later, they're both stood at the very back of the pub, eyes fixed on the stage where the band, which Emily swore blind sounded a lot like the band which Naomi was listening so loudly to the last time she was at the bar, is playing. (_Emily has since discovered, from the very few words Naomi has uttered to her so far this evening, that the band is, in fact, called Mayday Parade. And that she should 'Youtube them' because apparently, according to Naomi, they're 'fucking epic'.)_

''You do realise that these fuckers sound nothing like Mayday Parade, right?'' Naomi yells in her ear, trying to make her voice heard above the sounds blasting from the fucked up speakers.

Emily allows herself to look at Naomi then. Really look at her, safe in the knowledge that Naomi is far too preoccupied with glaring at the other people in the pub, or glancing at the band with a look of mild amusement etched across her face to notice Emily's blatant staring. _She's fucking beautiful. _

''Yeah, well, they sounded like them last night.'' The readhead shoots back, flashing Naomi a grin. Not that the blonde looks convinced, of course.

They don't talk much during the evening, aside from the occasional shouted sentence (_usually Naomi commenting on how slutty a particular girl looks, or how if the guy next to her her doesn't stop digging his elbow into her side then he's going to get ''a fucking pint thrown over his head.'') _Emily can't stop the ridiculous smile from covers her face just from the mere knowledge that Naomi is standing next to her. Has _chosen _to meet her tonight.

Naomi's demeanor hadn't changed throughout the night, Emily observes. The blonde had remained almost bafflingly nonchalant, treating Emily as a mere aquaintance who just happened to be in the same place at the same time. Yet Emily can feel a certain warmth present in Naomi's words, in her fleeting glances and even the way she rolls her eyes. Isn't sure whether it's her own wishful thinking or if Naomi really is nicer than most people would ever realise.__

Thenall too soon it's over and the pub is closing. (_Emily never understood the phrase 'Time flies when you're having fun' until tonight.) _Tries to squash her disappointment, shove it back down in her stomach as they exit the pub. Because, really, she's had an amazing night. Feels ridiculously ungrateful for being preoccupied with selfishly wishing it wasn't over. (_Just that it happened should be enough, she tries to remind herself.) _The cold night air hits her like a slap in the face as they step outside together.

''Where do you live?'' Naomi asks, breaking the comfortable silence. Emily is so taken aback by the fact that Naomi is the one asking _her _a question for a change that she almost draws a blank. Stutters slightly before gesturing vaguely in the direction of her house.

''Not far'' She replies, taking a few hesitant steps. (_She's always hated this awkward part, where you're not quite sure what to say or do before walking away from someone. Wonders if other people feel the same way.)_

''I'll walk you back then.'' Naomi states, already striding off in the direction of Emily's house, leaving Emily standing open-mouthed for a few moments before she finally rushes to catch up with her.

''You don't have to. I mean it's not far and..'' _(Oh God, she wants to walk me home. As if she's not adorable enough anyway!)_

''I don't mind. Not that I give a shit, of course. It's just that if you got murdered on the way home then I'd have no-one to serve me beer next time I came to the pub, would I?'' Naomi nudges Emily's shoulder playfully, fumbling in her pocket for yet another cigarette.

''There are other barmaids, y'know?'' Emily replies with a giggle (_okay, she may have had slightly too much to drink, but right now she's far too fucking happy to be preoccupied with how much her head is going to hurt in the morning.)_

''Yeah, like your sister or that chick who looks like that weird dragon thing from the Neverending Story?'' Naomi rolls her eyes and glances at Emily suspiciously when the redhead bursts out laughing, pausing momentarily to double over and hold her sides. ''What?'' Naomi asks.

''No, it's just, she really fucking does look like that dragon. I've never noticed before. I don't even know if it _is_ a dragon actually. I just remember watching that film as a kid and wishing I could curl up in the dragon thing's arms like that guy does.'' _Eugh. Stop talking._

''I always wanted to rescue the horse actually. Wasn't really bothered about the rest of them.'' Naomi says, glancing breifly at Emily.

''I really didn't picture you as an animal lover...'' The redhead really isn't lying. Can't quite imagine Naomi being the kind of person to curl up on the sofa with a cat or dog.

''Why not? They're better than people. You can trust animals, y'know? They're loyal. People aren't.'' There's a hint of sadness in Naomi's tone once again. (_It emerges far more frequently than Naomi probably realises, Emily notes.)_

Emily reluctantly notices that they're only a few short steps from her house. Slows her pace down slightly and wishes that Naomi wasn't about to leave her. Naomi's pace slows to match her own.

''Right, um, this is where I live...'' Emily wants to hit herself then. _Fucks sake. You sound like someone from MTV:Cribs. The socially retarded version. _Glances up at Naomi, who has come to a halt outside the house and is gazing up at it curiously.

''Right, well, I'll probably see you soon.'' Naomi nods at her then, turns around swiftly and begins making her way back in the direction of her own home (or _fucking shithole _as she calls it.)

''Naomi!'' _Oh, Christ. Don't fucking embarrass yourself. ''_Um...thanks. For, y'know. Tonight. And walking me home...'' The pavement at her feet is suddenly fascinating to Emily as she feels her face becoming smiles at her then. One of the few genuine smiles Emily has seen from the blonde since she first laid eyes upon her.

''No worries. Anything to avoid the Messiah for a bit longer.'' Naomi says with a laugh, turning back round and making her way down the street. ''See you soon, Em.''

__

__

__


	6. Chapter 6

Naomi feels an instant change in her mood the second she steps away from Emily. Suddenly notices the cold night air and the way the street seems so much darker. Finds her fags in her pocket (_she'll quit one day, she keeps telling herself. Usually whilst lighting up her 20th fag of the day) _and wearily grabs one out of the packet. Quickly lights up and lets the smoke out of her mouth with a heavy sigh.

She hates this feeling. _Post-happiness, _she calls it. That awful feeling when you've allowed yourself the fleeting luxury of being happy for a few moments, followed by the crushing feeling which inevitably comes with the realisation that it can never last. She associates her childhood with that very feeling. Remembers the rare occasions when her dad would vist and take her to the park. She'd spend hours on the swing, her dad pushing her higher and higher until eventually he'd tell her that it was _getting late. _That he _had to go. _Her stomach would drop then, and she'd reluctantly walk out of the park clutching at her dad's hand, knowing that she wouldn't see him for weeks.

Eventually, her dad's visits became less and less frequent. Her mum lied to her, of course. Tried to leave the last of Naomi's childhood innocence intact by telling her that her dad was simply _tied up at work. _That he did love her and it was simply _grown-up things _which stopped him from visiting as much as her wanted to. Naomi knew, of course. Even as a child, she was far more perceptive than people gave her credit for. Knew that her dad simply didn't care enough to visit. And over the years, the infrequent visits turned into infrequent letters and phonecalls and Naomi simply stopped expecting anything from her dad at all. Even found herself annoyed on the rare occasion when he'd bothered to remember her birthday and send a cheap, taky card with a £20 note inside.

Naomi had gradually got used to happiness no longer being a part of her life. Had even become fearful of it. Knew, from the breif visits from her dad that people were fundamentally flawed. They cared, for a few weeks or months. Or at least they tried to. But ultimately, Naomi simply wasn't _good enough. _Wasn't good enough for people to stick around. And so she'd ended up here. A bitter, anti-social 19 year old with a general distaste towards human beings. She simply couldn't go through the disappointment of being let down time and time again. Of finally letting someone in and believing that maybe, just for once, she _could _be good enough.

Emily had captivated the blonde from the very first time she'd stepped through the doors of the pub all those weeks ago. Perhaps, she though, it was because she saw the same look in the redhead's eyes as she knew was present in her own. _Loneliness. _Outwardly, she knew, they were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Emily had a strikingly apparent warmth to her, even in the midst of her shyness. An instant likeability that Naomi couldn't help but find herself drawn to, despite her best efforts. She, on the otherhand, had an outward animosity which she'd carefully constructed over the years, telling herself that if she simply wasn't approachable then she'd save herself the trouble of getting close to people. Of ultimately being rejected like she knew she always would be.

The redhead certainly, from what Naomi had observed, posessed the same fear of rejection. Naomi could tell, from the way Emily had tentatively tried to interact with her, the way she'd blushed furiously after she'd knocked over the empty pint glass several nights earlier, and the way Emily allowed her twin sister to dominate her mere existence, that Emily was equally as lonely as she was. Even found herself wishing on more than once occasion that Emily could see how utterly adorable she was. How much she really didn't deserve to feel like that.

Naomi slows down then. Glances at her watch and realises that it's only 20 past 11. _Still early as far as she's concerned._ Stops dead in her tracks as a thought springs into her mind. _She doesn't have to lose this happiness just now. _Can at least delay it temporarily before she once again finds herself alone in her room with only a bottle of vodka and her music for company. Shakes her head, as though one simple action will rid of her the thoughts. _It doesn't,of course. And neither does the alcohol, or the constant eye-rolling. _It never stops her, though. She tells herself that she'll change tomorrow. Stop all the sarcasm, and the drinking, and simply be _normal. _Pulls her phone out of her pocket and tries to convince the cynical part of her brain that she's simply being sociable. It doesn't have to mean anything, does it? Scrolls through her contact list until she finds Emily's name and tentatively presses down on the call button.

The phone rings for a few seconds and Naomi contemplates hanging up. Making her way home and pretending that she doesn't want to be around Emily. That she's perfectly fine on her own and that the redhead is simply just a barmaid from a shitty pub that she spends far too much time in. She's about to take the phone away from her ear, in fact. About to press the cancel button, shake her head at herself for being so ridiculous as to even contemplate something so stupid. Doesn't get the chance as she hears the phone connect, hears Emily's surprised tone float through the speakers like some sort of tentative hope.

''Hello?'' _God, just hang up. Pretend you called her accidently and make some sort of sarcastic comment about how much you hate modern technology._

''Hey. Um, Was just thinking that it's still kinda early and I don't fancy having to tolerate my mum's hippie friends on my own.'' _Shit. Fucking SHIT. _''So, you could come round to mine if you fancy it? Keep me company at the nut house?'' Naomi laughs fakely, really isn't used to willing wanting to spend time with another human being.

There's a pause on the other end of the phone and the blonde can feel her hand shaking slightly, a sickening feeling develop in the pit of her stomach. _Christ. This is why I don't do friends._

''Really? _Now? _'' Emily doesn't bother to mask her surprise and Naomi is pretty damn sure she can hear an element of excitement in Emily's voice. Smiles slightly at the fact that the redhead might actually want to spend more time with her. Tells herself that it's okay to cling onto happiness just this once. Just for tonight.

''Yeah. I mean, it's still kinda early. Well, for me anyway. And I've got a full bottle of vodka at mine...'' _Yeah, that's right Naomi. Try to bribe people into spending time with you by promising them alcohol. That's not fucking tragic at all, is it? Fuck's sake._

''Sure, that'd be great. I don't really fancy lying awake listening to my sister snoring for hours. Um...I don't know the way to yours though, so..''

''Oh, um, I'm actually at the end of your street.'' _Fucking hell, how long have I been standing here? _''So, you can just walk down and meet me if you want? Hurry up though, it's fucking freezing and if I get murdered or kidnapped I'm holding you completely responsible.'' _Good, sarcastic confident Naomi is back. _The blonde mentally congratulates herself.

Emily laughs then, causing Naomi to smile despite herself as she lights up once more. _I'll fucking stop smoking tomorrow, _she tells herself. _Or at least cut down...maybe._

''Sure, I'll be right out. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?''

''Yeah, sure. Later, Em.'' Naomi hangs up, trying to hide the smile which has spread across her face. _She's not entirely sure why though, since she's the only one here and it's not like anyone else can see._ Slouches on a nearby wall and waits for Emily to appear. Tries not to let the cynical part of her brain remind her that she's just setting herself up to get hurt again. Because, really, doesn't she fucking owe herself this once last chance to destroy her loneliness?__


End file.
